A/N: I want to take a moment to say how excited I am to finally get to this chapter. The Galileo Seven is the episode that first sparked my ideas for this story, and the final scenes of this chapter are exactly what I imagined as I was watching the episode, and everything just sort of fell into place. I had a vivid image of Vivian and the type of woman she would be, and everything spiraled from there. So I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do! This chapter is dedicated to recently joined reader, BurnedSpy. Thank you for your enthusiasm and kind words!
-C
Captain's Log, stardate 2821.5. On route to Makus Three with a cargo of medical supplies. Our course leads us past Murasaki 312, a quasar-like formation, vague, undefined. A priceless opportunity for scientific investigation. On board is Galactic High Commissioner Ferris, overseeing the delivery of the medicines to Makus Three.
The shuttlecraft wasn't exactly roomy, but Vivian had been in tighter spaces. Not with six other people, but still. She was sandwiched between Spock and Doctor McCoy, who were both attending to different things while they waited for the Captain to give them clearance to launch. Vivian was half-listening as Spock and Mr. Latimer conducted pre-flight checks, because if there was a problem she would have to assist, but she was also listening to Bones and Scotty as they made quiet bets about how long it would take Spock to annoy them all in this very tight space.
Vivian smoothed her skirt over her thighs and kept her eyes on the readouts she had been assigned.
"Captain to Shuttlecraft Galileo," the gentle voice of Captain Kirk said through their speakers. "Stand by, Mr. Spock."
"Final checks," Spock said. "Counselor, are the readouts proper?"
"Everything is fine here, Mr. Spock," she said, tapping a dial to be certain that a previously tricky indicator wasn't stuck. "We're clear if they clear us."
Spock nodded and turned back to his station.
"Captain to Galileo," the Captain repeated. "All systems cleared for takeoff."
"Power up," Spock instructed, and Latimer did so. "All instruments activated. All readings normal. All go."
"Launch shuttlecraft," Kirk instructed, and Vivian watched out their window as the curved doors of the shuttlebay opened up, letting the Galileo out into space.
Vivian felt less secure in open space in this tiny shuttlecraft than she did in the Enterprise. She couldn't fathom that some people would only travel by shuttlecraft, refusing to have their atoms scattered and realigned by a transporter beam. She felt much more secure about the beam. At least a lost pattern would be a quick and painless death.
"Readings and acceleration normal," she said, checking her indicators. "Phase one separation within parameters."
"Position?" Spock asked Latimer.
"Three point seven." The readings on the dial he was looking at shifted and Spock raised his eyebrows. "Sir, I-"
"Make up your mind, please, Mr. Latimer," Spock said.
"Sir, this indicator's gone crazy," Latimer said, obviously distressed that he was being blamed for the equipment's issues.
"That's to be expected, Mr. Spock," Mr. Boma offered. "Quasars are extremely disruptive. Just how much, we don't know."
"Considerably, Mr. Boma," Spock said, and before he could enter into a conversation on the point, Vivian saw one of her own indicators jump up, and one she hoped could merely be interference. But it wasn't likely.
"Spock," she said, "we're getting increased radiation readings."
He glanced at her readouts to confirm and said, "Stop forward momentum, Mr. Latimer."
"I can't, sir," Latimer said anxiously. "Nothing happens."
Spock flicked on the communications and began to signal, saying, "Galileo to Enterprise. Galileo to Enterprise. Come in, please."
There was no response as they hurtled into the quasar.
"Ionic interference, Mr. Spock," Mr. Boma said.
McCoy wasn't interested in the communications issues, however. He was focusing, as was Vivian, on the out-of-control behavior of their wayward shuttlecraft.
"Galileo to Enterprise," Spock repeated, in spite of the lack of response. "Galileo to Enterprise. We are out of control, being pulled directly into the heart of Murasaki three one two. Being hit by violent radiation on outer hull. Course three point two five."
And still, nothing.
Captain's Log, stardate 2821.7. The electromagnetic phenomenon known as Murasaki Three Twelve whirls like some angry blight in space, a depressive reminder that seven shipmates still have not been heard from. Equally bad, the effect has rendered normal searching systems useless. Without them, we are blind and almost helpless.
Vivian looked up at the ceiling of the shuttlecraft. Was she still alive? How would she know?
"You alright?" she heard Doctor McCoy ask Mr. Gaetano, who was holding his wrist nearby.
She was alive, then. She was fairly certain that death wouldn't involve her shipmates. At least not like this.
"Yes," Gaetano said.
"Scotty? Boma?" Bones asked.
"Now that's what I call a ride," Boma said, righting himself.
"Counselor?" McCoy asked, looking down at Vivian. She squinted up at him, taking stock of herself. Small pain in the back of her head, but otherwise she felt more or less unharmed.
"Yes," she said, "just a small bump on the head." He looked concerned, leaning down slightly, but she waved him off and said, "I'm fine, Bones."
Still, gentleman that he was, he helped her back into her seat, saying, "Upsy-daisy. What happened?"
"I can't be sure," Boma said, "but I'd say that the magnetic potential of the effect was-" McCoy gave him a tissue for his nosebleed and he dabbed at the blood. "Thank you. Was such that, as we gathered speed, it was multiplied geometrically. And we were simply shot into the center of the effect. Like a projectile."
"I'd say your evaluation is reasonable, Mr. Boma," Spock said, and Vivian glanced around the shuttlecraft, relieved to find that it was still in one shell.
"What a mess," Scotty said from the back in despair as he looked over their engines.
Spock raised an eyebrow and said, "Picturesque descriptions will not mend broken circuits, Mr. Scott. I think you'll find your work is cut out for you." He then turned back to the communication panel and began to call again for help. "Galileo to Enterprise," he said. "Come in, please."
"Do you honestly think they might answer?" Vivian asked, leaning forward, half-hopeful.
"I expect nothing, Counselor," Spock said. "It is merely logical to try all the alternatives. Doctor McCoy, a reading on the atmosphere, please."
McCoy did ask asked, taking a quick reading and reporting, "Partial pressure of oxygen, seventy millimeters of mercury. Nitrogen one forty. Breathable, if you're not running in a competition."
"Just the facts, Doctor."
Vivian tried not to smile at that, but it was very difficult.
"Traces of argon, neon, krypton," McCoy continued, slightly irritated, "all in acceptable quantities. However, I wouldn't recommend this place as a summer resort."
Before Spock could object to the statement, Vivian said quickly, with a smile, "I wasn't considering it." Spock then turned to Vivian with a question in his face. Since he wasn't likely to ask about her head, she assumed he was going to inquire about her work and she quickly said, "I'm recording sir, in case that's what you meant to ask."
He nodded at her with approval before turning to the back of the shuttlecraft again.
"Mr. Scott," he said, "if you'll make a survey of the damage, please."
"Logical," Scotty said, almost jokingly.
"Gentlemen," Spock said, "I think we should move outside, make room for Mr. Scott to do his work. Mr. Latimer, Mr. Gaetano, you'll arm yourselves and scout out the area, keeping in visual contact with the ship."
"Aye, aye, sir," Latimer said, and the two readied their phasers before exiting. The doors closed behind them, and Vivian felt slightly more secure.
"What do you think our chances are of contacting the Enterprise?" McCoy asked, moving one seat closer.
"Under present conditions, extremely poor."
Vivian felt her chest constrict and she said, "But there's a chance – I mean, they'll be looking for us."
Spock gave her a completely unreadable look for what felt like the universe's longest moment before he said, "If the ionization effect is as widespread as I believe it is, Counselor, they'll be searching for us without instrumentation, by visual contact only. On those terms, this is a very large planet."
Instinctively, Vivian clenched her fists tightly, although they had not yet begun to shake.
"Then you don't think they'll find us," McCoy said.
"Not as long as we're grounded. We may be here for a very long time, Doctor."
/-/
The air was close and tight, making Vivian's feeling of claustrophobia even more intense. She would rather be inside the shuttlecraft than standing on the alien planet, but Scotty needed space to work, and she wasn't about to argue with Spock when she knew she was being irrational.
"Well," McCoy said, "I can't say much for the circumstances, but at least it's your big chance."
Spock raised his eyebrows and turned to McCoy, obviously confused.
"My big chance? For what, Doctor?"
Vivian actually laughed, feeling her whole body loosen as she did. This was good, relaxing a bit. She breathed more easily.
"For command, Spock," she explained, kneeling down to touch the chalky soil at her feet. "Bones was saying to me this morning how you've obviously been itching to prove that logic is a sufficient basis for command."
She smiled up at them, but Spock's features remained unchanged. Whatever he thought about this revelation, he wasn't letting them know.
"I am a logical man."
McCoy shook his head as Vivian straightened again and he said, "It'll take more than logic to get us out of this."
"Perhaps, Doctor, but I know of no better way to begin. I realize command does have its fascinations, even under circumstances such as these. But I neither enjoy the idea of command, nor am I frightened of it. It simply exists. And I will do whatever logically needs to be done. Excuse me."
They watched Spock walk back into the shuttlecraft and McCoy opened his mouth, no doubt to gossip about Spock and his motives, but Vivian ignored him, following Spock into the shuttlecraft. Any excuse to get out of the air, and McCoy followed her in.
"Very bad, Mr. Spock," Scotty was saying gravely.
"In what way?"
"We've lost a great deal of fuel. We have no chance at all to reach escape velocity. And if we ever hope to make orbit, we'll have to lighten our load by at least five hundred pounds."
Vivian felt sickened by this enormous figure and said softly, "That's three people."
"Or the equivalent weight in equipment," Bones said quickly, obviously not keen to think of leaving anyone behind, especially with design.
"Doctor McCoy," Spock said, turning to them, "with very few exceptions we use virtually every piece of equipment aboard this craft in attaining orbit. There's very little excess weight, except among the passengers, as the Counselor's comment suggests."
Vivian almost wondered what he felt about this, but then she remembered that this was Spock and she put such pointless thoughts out of mind. Boma, however, who was sitting off to the side, was not impressed with the entire line of thought and he seemed keen to get more out of Spock on the matter.
He said, "You mean three of us must stay behind."
Spock nodded and replied, "Unless the situation changes radically, yes."
"And who's to choose?"
"As commanding officer, the choice will be mine."
"You wouldn't be interested in drawing lots."
Vivian wasn't sure what sickened her more, having to leave crewmembers behind or doing it with a game of chance.
"Mr. Boma," she said quickly, "I can even think of several reasons why such a method isn't strategically sound. It's a decision, with factors to consider. It can't be made by chance."
She didn't want to come right out and say that there was a possibility if she were drawn in the lots that even three people wouldn't add up to enough to attain orbit. It sounded too selfish, even in her head, but Boma seemed to understand what she was delicately not expressing.
"Alright, then," Boma said, rounding on Spock again. "Who?"
Spock was not fazed by the demanding tone or the aggressive stance. He simply said, "My choice will be a logical one, arrived at through logical means."
Doctor McCoy, however, wasn't satisfied.
"Mr. Spock, life and death are seldom logical."
"But attaining a desired goal always is, Doctor. Now," he said looking around at them, "gentlemen, I suggest we move outside to make a further examination of the hull in the event that we've overlooked any minor damage."
Without waiting for response, he left the shuttlecraft once more, and Vivian hesitated to follow, wanting to remain inside the shell that was beginning to feel almost like a cocoon. Boma and Bones also lingered.
"If any minor damage was overlooked, it was when they put his head together," Boma said darkly, and Vivian frowned at him.
Before she could remind him that Spock was his commanding officer and deserved his respect, McCoy chimed in with his two cents as well, saying, "Not his head, Mr. Boma, his heart."
She just shook her head and went back out into the planet's air, feeling the strange softness of the chalky ground under her shoes as she moved around the hull, visually scanning for any sort of damage. She could hear Spock moving around the other side, but she said nothing. Telling him what Boma had said would not surprise him, and there was no point disciplining anyone in the situation they were in. If they made it back alive, she would mention it to the Captain.
If they didn't, then in the end it wouldn't really matter.
She was coming around to the side where Spock was considering a spot with scraped paint, perhaps contemplating whether too much of the metal had been gouged away or not, when a scream was heard from the distance. Boma rushed out from the other side of the shuttlecraft, alertness in his eyes and a phaser in hand.
"Come on, Boma," Spock said, "Vivian."
She got her own phaser out, hoping that whatever made that scream, it wasn't one of their men, who had certainly gone out of visual contact with the shuttlecraft, despite Spock's orders. They crossed the chalky terrain until they reached a ledge. Vivian charted a path to the bottom of it, where Gaetano stood next to the body of Latimer. The body had a massive spear sticking out of it, and Vivian stared at it with mild horror.
"What was it?" Spock asked as Vivian kneeled beside the body.
"It was something huge," Gaetano said nervously, "terrible. Up there." He pointed vaguely away toward some rocks covered by mist. "I think I hit it."
Spock went off in the direction pointed with phaser at the ready and Vivian used a medical scanner to confirm that Latimer was beyond any help before standing and dusting off her legs and skirt.
"Did you see what it was?" Boma asked.
"Vaguely," Gaetano said, his voice weak and tremulous. "It was like a giant ape."
"Poor Latimer."
"At least it was quick for him."
"Well get off alright," Boma said encouragingly, although Vivian noticed he didn't mention the fact that they might have to leave some men behind. The prospect of doing so seemed less and less reasonable the longer they stayed, but what could they do?
Spock returned, putting his phaser back in holster as he approached.
"Well?" Vivian asked, pleased that she sounded calmer than she felt.
"Nothing there," he said.
Gaetano did not accept this, however, saying avidly, "I tell you there was."
"I don't doubt your word," Spock said.
"But there must be something. I swear I hit it."
Spock had lost interest in the discussion, however, and was examining the spear that had finished off Latimer. He pulled it out and considered the tip.
"Folsom Point," he murmured to himself.
"Sir?" Boma asked, confused.
"There's a remarkable resemblance to the Folsom Point discovered in 1925, old world calendar, New Mexico, North America. A bit more crude about the shaft, I believe," he explained. "Not very efficient."
Boma seemed staggered by this analysis, and Vivian felt that they were about to have an eruption on their hands if Spock didn't manage this carefully.
"Not very efficient?" Boma said, almost derisively. "Is that all you have to say?"
"Am I in error, Mr. Boma?"
"You? Error?" Boma said, his tone exaggerated, almost sarcastic. "Impossible."
"Spit it out, Boma," Vivian said in her hard, Bridge voice, and Boma seemed startled that she was speaking to him in that way. But still, he was too upset to calm down and be reasonable.
"There's a man lying there dead," Boma snarled, "and you talk about stone spears. What about Latimer?"
Spock seemed to grasp the situation, although he obviously didn't understand Boma's distress. He said calmly, "My concern for the dead will not bring him back to life, Mr. Boma."
"Mr. Spock," Gaetano cut in with surprising tact, "in the interest of efficiency, I don't think we should leave his body here."
Spock looked around at Vivian, who just shrugged at him, one eyebrow quirking up. She didn't care either way, and it wasn't her decision to make.
"Bringing him back to the ship should not interfere with our repair efforts," Spock said. "If you need assistance, I-"
"We'll do it," Gaetano said a little too quickly. "Give me a hand with Latimer, will you?" he said to Boma, and Vivian led Spock away back toward the shuttlecraft.
Captain's Log, stardate 2822.3. We continue to search, but I find it more difficult each moment to ward off a sense of utter futility and loss.
Spock quietly watched as Scott worked, combing his own mind for possibilities. Traditional methods seemed more or less lost to them, and creativity would be required to get the craft into orbit at all.
"Perhaps if you were to channel the auxiliary tank through the primary intake valve," he suggested.
Scott considered this for a brief moment before shaking his head and saying, "It's too delicate. It may not be able to take the pressure as it is."
Spock had suspected that this would be the case, but it never hurt to offer suggestions. As the two men pondered their situation further, Counselor Buckingham and Doctor McCoy came forward from the rear compartment of the shuttle. The Counselor was holding box containing a rather large collection of spare parts that the two of them had been gathering from storage spaces in the rear of the shuttlecraft.
"I think we could shed fifty pounds if we leave this, Spock," she announced.
"Excellent, Counselor."
"We should be able to scrape up another hundred pounds," McCoy said as she passed them, handing the box out to one of the men.
"Which would still leave us at least one hundred fifty pounds overweight," Spock said as the Counselor brushed off her hands. He noticed that her thumbs still twitched but that she was otherwise outwardly calm.
Indeed, she was, if he recalled her medical profile correctly, almost exactly one hundred fifty pounds. Technically, this meant that any one of them could be left behind, but Spock did not seriously entertain the notion of leaving behind the Counselor. Nor would he be likely to leave the Doctor or Scott. They each possessed expertise too valuable to the Enterprise to sacrifice.
"I can't believe you're serious about leaving one of us behind," McCoy grumbled. "Now whatever it is that's out there-"
"It is more rational," Spock cut in, "to sacrifice one life than six, Doctor."
"Bones isn't thinking rationally," Vivian said, brushing a bit of hair behind her ear and glancing over at Scott's work. "He hardly ever does."
"He may be wise to start."
The head of Mr. Boma poked in through the door of the shuttlecraft and he said, "Mr. Spock, we're ready."
Spock blinked back at him, his eyebrows quirking upward. Had he given Mr. Boma an order that he had since forgotten?
"For what?"
"The services for Latimer."
The man said it as though this were the most natural, rational thought possible.
"Mr. Boma," Spock said patiently, "we're working against time."
Boma did not seem to comprehend the significance of this statement, however, and he said, "The man's dead. He deserves a decent burial. You're the captain. A few words."
Spock judged by Boma's shortened sentences that he had reached a state of irritation so great that he could no longer rant. This seemed an improvement of sorts to Spock, who judged that the lack of ranting could at least save them time and energy for the tasks at hand. However, he seemed unable to get through to Mr. Boma about the gravity of the situation.
"Counselor," he said, turning to Vivian, who jumped slightly at being called upon. She looked up at them, her hair springing from behind her ear once more. The curl bounced off her cheek. "Perhaps you know the correct words for such an occasion."
Before she could answer, Doctor McCoy jumped in, slightly outraged, and said, "Mr. Spock, that's your place."
Spock continued to watch the Counselor, whose brown eyes were still watching him, full of thought and consideration. He could see that just behind her calm exterior she was anxious, but she was holding herself together remarkably well, much better than during the incident of his court martial.
After a hesitation, she said softly, "No, Bones, he's right. He needs to help Scotty."
"Now look," McCoy said, now turning on her. "We may all die here. At least let us die like men, not machines."
The Counselor blinked, and a brief glimpse of actual fear at this statement vanished, brushed away by the movement of her eyelids.
Spock said, "By dealing with first things first, I hope to increase our chances of staying alive." He turned away from the Doctor, looking down at the situation at hand once more. "Well, Mr. Scott."
Scott glanced up, then back down at the work he was doing.
"If you could give me a hand with this conduit," he said.
Spock bent down to help, and glanced up only long enough to watch the backs of the others as Vivian led them out of the shuttle to do a brief burial of Latimer. Spock noted that her thumbs had begun to twitch with some violence before turning back to work.
/-/
Spock continued to assist Scott through the funeral service and the other men were finishing the process of burying Latimer. The exception was Vivian, who sat at Spock's feet, tools in her lap, handing tools to Scott and Spock as directed and returning them to their place as needed. The work was tedious, not especially fruitful, but progressing as well as could be expected.
Suddenly, however, Scott dropped the tool in his hand and leaned over a gauge near his head.
"Pressure's dropping," he said urgently. "We're losing everything."
"What happened?" Spock demanded, startled by this sudden change in pace.
"One of the lines gave," Scott said, obviously distressed. "The strain of coming through the atmosphere and the added load when we tried to bypass. We have no fuel."
There was a silent moment in the craft as the three of them digested this new, very unfortunate information.
"No fuel," Vivian muttered, more to herself than to either of the others. "No fuel. Right." She cleared her throat, rubbing the heels of her palms on the edge of the toolbox. "I suppose we can stop thinking about how much weight our fuel can take," she said, her voice falsely bright. "Alternatives, Scotty?"
"We have no fuel!" Scott cried, bewildered at her question. "What alternatives?"
"Mr. Scott," Spock said calmly, "there are always alternatives."
Before the Engineer had time to think of one, however, the Doctor's voice cut through the air from outside.
"Mr. Spock!" he cried. "Something's happening outside."
Vivian and Spock both scrambled out of the craft, and Vivian went to crouch with the other gentleman near the craft, while Spock stood, listening to a scraping sound not terribly far away. McCoy looked up at him from hunching and said, "What do those supersensitive ears make of that, Mr. Spock?"
"Wood rubbing on some kind of leather," Spock said, still listening for some clearer notion of what was happening.
"They're getting ready," Gaetano said darkly. "They'll attack."
"Not necessarily," Boma said reasonably, the first time the man had been reasonable since they landed. "It could be a simple tribal rite, assuming they're a tribal culture."
There went the logic, and Spock shook his head, stepping forward to where the others were crouching.
"Not a tribal culture," he said. "Their artifacts are too primitive. More likely a loose association of some sort."
He held out his hand to help the Counselor to stand straighter, and she brushed out her skirt once righted.
"It's hard to strategize when we know so little," she said, turning back to glance at the shuttle, her mind very clearly still on the issue of fuel. Spock wished she would focus on the local inhabitants, as that was her area of expertise and where she would be most useful.
"We know enough," Boma said. "If they're tribal, they'll have a sense of unity. We can use that."
Spock ignored the fact that the young man had not listened to his earlier diagnosis of the culture and said, "How, Mr. Boma?"
At least someone was thinking about strategy.
"By hitting them hard," Boma said eagerly. "Give them a bloody nose. Make them think twice about attacking us."
"Yes, I agree," Gaetano said. "If we stand by and do nothing, we're just giving them an invitation to come down and slaughter us."
Spock shook his head at the vigor with which they gave these suggestions.
"I'm frequently appalled by the low regard you Earthmen have for life," he said darkly.
"Well, we're practically about it," Gaetano said. "I say we hit them before they hit us."
"Mr. Boma?"
"Absolutely."
"Counselor Buckingham?"
She turned back to them, frowning. She had been listening, perhaps even running through the problem, but her eyes looked distant. She glanced over where they had lost Latimer and said, "It's strategically sound, given what we know." She sighed. "As far as I can figure, Mr. Spock, it's logical."
"Indeed," Spock said. "It seems logical to me, also. But to take life indiscriminately-"
"The majority," Gaetano said quickly.
Spock raised his eyebrows and said, "I am not interested in the opinion of the majority, Mr. Gaetano. Components must be weighed. Our danger to ourselves as well as our duties to other life forms, friendly or not." He paused, weighing these very options as he suspected the Counselor was also doing. "There's a third course."
"That could get us killed," Gaetano argued.
"I think not. Doctor McCoy."
"Yes."
"You return to the ship. Assist Mr. Scott in any way possible. We'll be back shortly."
Vivian, suddenly alert, pulled out her phaser and said in the firm voice she sometimes used on the Bridge, "Keep the door closed, Bones."
McCoy nodded to both these orders and returned to the craft.
"Gentlemen," Spock said, taking out his own phaser, "You'll follow orders to the letter, firing only when so instructed, and at targets designated by myself or Counselor Buckingham."
Spock felt that he could trust Vivian to obey his plan, but the other two were obviously yanking at some unseen leash, looking for a way free of the yoke.
As expected, Gaetano said happily, "Now you're talking."
"We'll fire to frighten, Mr. Gaetano," Spock said to clarify, "not to kill."
"Oh, for the – You saw what they did to Latimer!"
"I am in command, Mr. Gaetano. The orders and the responsibility will be mine. Follow me."
The splintered group followed through the mist, across rocky terrain, back toward the sounds that had been made, the sounds of wood and leather. A giant spear crossed the path, clumsily passing the Counselor. Spock shifted to stand in front of her and shot at the unseen assailant based on the trajectory of the spear. In return, a shield was thrown, just as haphazardly, missing him. Carefully, the group moved closer, barely even able to see the rocks at their feet.
"The mists," Boma complained. "I can't see them."
"I hear them," Spock said, still following the sound. "They're directly ahead of us. Several, I believe. Direct your phasers to two o'clock and ten o'clock."
"I say we hit them dead on," Gaetano said.
"Yes, I know," Spock said, growing impatient with their stubbornness. "But fortunately, I'm giving the orders. Take aim, please, and fire when you have the signal."
Spock looked around for a spot where they could rise above the mists, perhaps see more clearly the lay of the land. There was a particularly tall rock formation, but it would not support the weight of any of the men. He determined that it should support Vivian, however, and he caught her eye, gesturing to the rock. She nodded and scrambled up adroitly, squinting out over the heaviest of the mist. He saw her lick her lips, clutching at the rock with unnaturally tight grip.
"Fire," she said. They shot as ordered, and Spock watched her squinting for several sustained seconds of phaser fire. "Cease," she said sharply, and the fire ended. There was a silent pause, so still that even Spock could hear nothing. Then, the Counselor said, "I think that may have done it, Mr. Spock."
"I still say we should have killed them," Gaetano grumbled as Spock helped her down from the rock.
"It was not necessary," he said, taking a step away and letting go of her trembling, sweaty hands. "Fear will do for us what needs to be done. Mr. Boma, you will return with us to the ship. Mr. Gaetano, you remain on guard here. Keep in contact with the ship."
Gaetano nodded, and the other three returned through the mist to the shuttle, where Doctor McCoy let them in. Vivian quickly closed the door behind them, and Boma moved toward the rear compartment, turning on his communicator.
"Did you find them?" McCoy asked.
"Yes," Spock said, "we found them. They won't bother us again."
"I hope not. Scotty has an idea."
"It's dangerous," Scott said, frowning, "but it might work."
"What is it, Scotty?" Vivian said, her voice again falsely bright and full of encouragement.
"I can adjust the main reactor to function with a substitute fuel supply."
"That's all very well," Spock said, wondering why Scott had not noticed the obvious flaw in the plan, "but we don't have a substitute fuel supply."
"Aye, we do," Scott said, actually smiling slightly. "Our phasers. I can adapt them and use their energy. It'll take time, but it's possible."
McCoy leaned forward and said, "Trouble is, they happen to be our only defense."
Scott deflated slightly at this mention and said, "Aye."
Spock frowned at the panel they'd been working on, weighing the options. They had no fuel otherwise, absolutely no way to get off the ground. Spock calculated it exceptionally unlikely that the native peoples would return to bother them. There was really only one option.
"Counselor, your phaser."
"And if we're attacked again?" Vivian said, her voice calm but her thumbs trembling against the phaser handle.
"They won't attack again for at least several hours," he said. "By then, with luck, we'll be gone."
She handed the phaser over to Scott with no objection.
"If I can get a full load," Scott said, "we should be able to achieve orbit with all hands. Not that we can maintain it long."
"We don't have to maintain it long, Mr. Scott," Spock said briskly. "In less than twenty-four hours, the Enterprise will be forced to abandon its search in order to make a rendezvous. If we can't maintain orbit after that time, it won't make any difference. If we burn up in a decaying orbit or die here on the planet's surface, we shall surely die. Doctor, your phaser." McCoy handed his over as well. "Go to work, Mr. Scott."
"Aye, aye, sir."
/-/
As soon as Boma lost contact with Gaetano, everyone but Scotty left the shuttle to look for him. When they reached the spot where he had been left on guard, Vivian's eyes scanned the area. Some marking on the ground in the rocks, and his phaser was on a rock undamaged, but Gaetano was nowhere to be seen. Spock picked up the phaser and turned it over in his hands, seeming to be weighing something. Vivian looked around again, wondering if there was something she'd missed, some clue to Gaetano's whereabouts, but she knew he hadn't simply wandered off. He would not have left his weapon behind.
Gently, she took the phaser out of Spock's hands and passed it to McCoy, who looked horrified.
"Bones," she said in her most gentle voice, "take this to Scotty for conversion."
Boma wasn't stunned like McCoy, though. Boma was furious, raging, filled with anxiety and anger that had been brewing almost since they landed.
"Nobody knows what's happened to Gaetano," he snapped, "and you two hand over his phaser like it's nothing at all."
Vivian hardly thought it was fair to include Spock in this, since she'd taken it from his hands, and she was about to say so when Spock suddenly handed her his own phaser. She gripped the weapon, feeling as stunned as McCoy looked.
"Give this to Mr. Scott in the event I don't return," Spock ordered.
"Just where are you going?" McCoy demanded.
"I have a certain scientific curiosity about what's become of Mr. Gaetano. Return to the ship, please."
Without any further instruction or elaboration, Spock wandered off into the rocks, apparently following some trail Vivian could not see. She stood rooted to the spot, horrified. She had half a mind to go after him, but if something did happen to him she would be needed at the shuttlecraft. She would be in command.
"I don't know," McCoy said, shaking his head. "He'll risk his neck locating Gaetano and if he finds him, he's just as liable to order him to stay behind. You tell me."
Vivian's hands tightened around the handle of the phaser.
"Do you really think the ship will ever leave?" Boma asked.
"Well, it won't unless we get these phasers back," McCoy said, and Vivian nodded, leading the way back to the shuttlecraft, feeling every second that she should have sent the others back and followed Spock instead.
/-/
Vivian paced a small section of the shuttlecraft. Spock had just returned with Gaetano's body, and they let him in, Boma storing the body in the rear compartment as Scotty continued work and Spock closed the door quickly. No one needed to ask why.
The natives were outside the shuttlecraft.
"Well," Vivian said, frowning, "they didn't stay frightened very long."
"A most illogical reaction," Spock said by way of agreement. "We demonstrated superior weapons. They should have fled."
McCoy shook his head furiously and said, "You mean they should have respected us."
"Of course."
"Mr. Spock," McCoy continued, voice dripping with frustration, "respect is a rational process. Did it ever occur to you they might react emotionally, with anger?"
"Doctor," Spock said, puzzled, "I am not responsible for their unpredictability."
Vivian tensed, her hands gripping the toolbox determinedly as McCoy snarled, "They were perfectly predictable to anyone with feeling. You might as well admit it, Mr. Spock, your precious logic brought them down on us."
Although she had more or less stayed out of the mess of everyone becoming frustrated and angry with Spock's manner during their dilemma, she'd had quite enough. She looked up at McCoy and said fiercely, "Doctor, that's neither fair nor productive." She set down the box and stood, frowning at the men around her. "Now, what we need to do, gentlemen, is decide what they're doing and how to act."
"They're studying us," Spock said calmly, "for the moment."
Boma, who was still standing by the rear compartment said darkly, "Another prediction, Mr. Spock?"
"My opinion, Mr. Boma." Just then, the shuttlecraft shook, everyone grabbing something nearby except Vivian, who had nothing to safely grab. Spock caught her by the elbow to keep her from tumbling into Scotty. "Seal the windows!" Spock ordered urgently.
Vivian and Boma hurried to do just that as McCoy rounded on Spock.
"Studying us, Mr. Spock? They seem to learn rather quickly."
"Alright, Spock," Boma said angrily, "you have all the answers. What now?"
"Watch your tone, Mr. Boma," Vivian barked, moving away from the window she'd just secured, "it's turning hostile."
"My tone isn't the only thing that's hostile, Counselor!"
"Curious," Spock said softly, obviously paying no attention to the fight inside the shuttlecraft, still focused on the puzzle outside of it. "Most illogical."
"I'm sick and tired of your logic!" Boma cried.
"Strange," Spock said, still ignoring Boma, turning to Vivian with a puzzled expression. "Step by step, I have made the correct and logical decisions. And yet two men have died."
"And you've brought our furry friends down on us," McCoy said.
Spock nodded and said, "I do seem to have miscalculated regarding them, and inculcated resentment on your parts. The sum of the parts cannot be greater than the whole."
"A little less analysis and more action," McCoy said, frustrated. "That's what we need, Mr. Spock."
Vivian was way ahead of him, leaning over where Scotty continued to work.
"How long do you need, Scotty?" she asked.
"Another hour, maybe two," he said.
"That won't be soon enough," McCoy said.
"Doctor, a phaser can only drain so fast."
Boma rounded on Spock once more, saying, "How long do you think those plates will hold out under this? We've got to do something!"
Spock turned to Scotty, who shrugged at him as he continued to work and said, "You've got your hands full."
Captain's Log, stardate 2823.1. Our landing parties are in the surface of Taurus Two. We continue to hope. Instruments are slowly turning to an operable condition as the ion storm slowly disperses. On the ship we can only wait helplessly.
Spock strained every mental faculty he had, but nothing was occurring to him to get the aggressive natives to leave the shuttlecraft alone. Suddenly, however, Counselor Buckingham's calm exterior broke into a smile.
"Scotty," she said, "how much juice is left in the batteries."
"They're in good shape," Scott answered, "but they won't lift us off if that's what you're getting at."
But it wasn't. Spock suddenly understood her question, and a possible way of managing the situation until they could get enough power to lift.
"Will they electrify the exterior of the ship?" Spock asked.
Scott, also catching the train of thought said happily, "That they will, Mr. Spock!"
He hurried into the rear compartment, pulling on thick rubber gloves. Spock turned to the rest of the crew.
"Get to the center of the ship," he ordered. "Don't touch the plates. Be sure you're insulated."
The four of them huddled in the center, and Spock could see Vivian was clasping her hands together, attempting to keep them from their violent trembling. It made no difference, though, and Spock discreetly folded one of his hands over both of hers, to shield her hands from view of the others.
"Are you ready, Mr. Scott?" he asked.
"Ready, Mr. Spock."
"Alright, everyone clear?" Vivian asked, as though she weren't terrified. "Begin."
Scott used a spanner, shorting out connections in order to electrify the hull.
"Again!" Vivian cried. "Again!"
He did as directed, until the outside area when quiet and still. They all held their breath, waiting, but even Spock could hear nothing.
"I daren't use anymore," Scott said, still holding the spanner. "Not and be sure of ignition."
"I believe we've used enough, Mr. Scott," Spock said, squeezing Vivian's hands gently. "I suggest you continue draining the phasers."
"Aye."
"It must have worked," McCoy said, stepping away from the group as they all began to spread again.
"For the moment," Spock conceded.
Boma looked nervous, "For the moment?"
"From what we've seen," Vivian said quietly, folding her hands behind her back, out of sight, "when they realize they're okay, they'll be back again. We need to be quick. Check the aft compartment for anything else we can dump."
She spoke calmly, but there was a slight edge to her voice that suggested to Spock that she was still very nervous. Boma misread this edge as a hint to what she thought they ought to get rid of.
"Mr. Gaetano's body's back there," he said, almost defiantly.
"It will of course have to be left behind," Spock said.
Boma drew himself up and said, "Not without a burial."
"I wouldn't recommend it," Spock said reasonably. "The creatures won't be far away."
"Not without a burial, Mr. Spock."
"It would expose members of this crew to unnecessary peril."
"I'll take that chance. You see, Mr. Spock, I would insist on a decent burial even if your body was back there."
"Mr. Boma," McCoy said, hinting that the man should stop speaking. But Boma was too upset to take the hint.
"I'm sick and tired of this machine!"
"That's enough!" Scott barked.
"Gentlemen," Spock said, noting to himself that Vivian seemed increasingly bothered. "Alright," he said when Boma had taken a deep breath, "Mr. Boma, you'll have your burial. Provided the creatures will permit it."
Counselor's Log, personal. Tensions are high on the shuttlecraft and Mr. Boma has nearly lost his grip on the situation. Our lives depend on keeping our heads, but even then survival is far from guaranteed. Spock knows – and no one else can know – in spite of all my training and efforts, that I am afraid. And unlike him, I'm only human.
Spock paced the shuttlecraft's length as McCoy attempted to make contact with the Enterprise. If they could even give a hint that they were alive and well, perhaps it could lead the Captain to them.
"Enterprise, this is Galileo. Come in, please. Enterprise." The Doctor shook his head. "Nothing, Spock. Just ionic interference."
"That's it," Scott said suddenly, straightening up and handing the last empty phaser to Vivian, who was standing by with tools.
"How about weight?" Spock asked.
"If we shed every ounce, we might be able to achieve orbit," Scott said.
Vivian frowned at this uncertainty and asked, "And hold it how long?"
"A few hours," Scott estimated, "no longer. But if we time it right, we can cut out of orbit and save enough fuel for controlled reentry."
Spock raised his eyebrows, leading them forward to the controls.
"To land here again? Not a very attractive possibility."
"We have very few alternatives, Mr. Spock."
Spock pressed his fingertips together and weighed what options they had. The creatures had not returned yet. They would not be able to lift immediately. A few things could still be shed. Particularly, Mr. Gaetano's body.
"Doctor McCoy, Mr. Boma," he said, calling the other to forward from the aft compartment. Spock turned to Scott. "When can we lift off, Scott?"
"Maybe eight minutes, if the weight's right."
McCoy came forward from the aft compartment.
"Gentlemen," Vivian said smoothly, anticipating Spock's decision and seeming intent on taking it into her own hands for some reason, "we're lifting off in ten. You have that long to bury Mr. Gaetano." Spock realized she included him in that, and he was about to protest that he was needed on the ship, but she shook her head and said, "No, Spock, I'll help Scotty. You need to hurry."
She was right, of course. Three men burying would be quicker than her saying a few words while two men buried. He noticed, as he left the shuttlecraft, that she and Scott began to strip a few now-excess pieces of equipment from the panel he'd been working on as he went to bury. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but the pair in the shuttlecraft was having a very soft conversation. Judging by the pacing, neither was being very open. Humans chose the strangest moments to be cryptic with each other. Spock could only judge that it was not essential conversation.
They were as quick as possible with the burying, but they were joined very quickly by the creatures. Spock was cut off from the rest of the group, ordered Boma and McCoy to lift off without him, but they did not, waiting for him to rush onto the craft with them.
Scott and Vivian still had their heads together, muttering about something. Scott looked as though he had won something, and Vivian looked slightly embarrassed.
"Go, Scott!" Spock ordered.
"Aye, aye, sir," Scott replied, hurrying to get the craft underway while Spock made certain that the door was secure behind him. Spock then rounded on McCoy.
"I told you to lift off!"
"Don't be a fool, Mr. Spock," McCoy said. "We couldn't leave you out there."
"Get us off, Scott!" Spock ordered as the creatures began to assault the ship once more. Why weren't they moving?
"Spock," Vivian said nervously from her perch by the instruments, "something's wrong. We should be lifting off."
He checked her readings and frowned.
"Quite right, Counselor," he said. "There's somebody holding us down. All systems are go, but we're not moving."
There was only one choice, though it was not ideal. He flipped on a switch on the pilot's panel.
"What are you doing?" Scott demanded.
"Our boosters."
"We'll never be able to hold orbit."
"Would you rather stay here?"
With only a fraction of a second's hesitation Scott said, "No, Mr. Spock."
He then stood, giving Spock the pilot's seat and moving to a position on the other side of the Counselor where he could monitor the engines.
"We have ship motion," Vivian said, adjusting a few of her own switches for the boosters.
"They let go!" Boma cried excitedly.
"We got off!" McCoy cheered.
Obviously their human emotions had led them to forget the situation at hand. Spock said, "May I remind you that we have yet to achieve orbit, nor can we maintain it long. An hour from now we may be right back where we started from."
The craft went quiet, and the only sound that could be heard was the natural rattling of the plates as the Galileo left the atmosphere.
"Gentlemen, by coming after me," Spock said, "you may well have destroyed what slim chance you have for survival. The logical thing for you to have done was to have left me behind."
The Counselor frowned and McCoy said, "Mr. Spock, remind me to tell you that I'm sick and tired of your logic."
Perhaps sensing that this was not productive, Vivian cleared her throat and said, "Scotty, we've got a minute to orbit. How's our fuel?"
"Fifteen pounds psi," he answered. "Approximately enough for one orbit, Counselor."
"After that?" McCoy asked.
"Tapping our boosters ended our last chance for a soft landing," Spock admitted.
Boma's face contorted slightly at this new knowledge.
"You mean a burn-up?" he asked.
"It is the usual end of a decaying orbit," Spock said.
She said it so softly that Spock thought for a moment that he was the only one to hear her, but for McCoy's face softening when Vivian whispered, "I don't want to die up here."
"Infinitely preferable to the kind of death we'd be granted on the planet's surface, I should think," Spock told her. Perhaps she would find the thought comforting. Very likely, it would be one of the last thoughts she had.
Boma did not seem to find the thought comforting, saying dryly, "I admire your ability to make so measured a choice."
"Mr. Spock," Scott said, "you said a while ago that there were always alternatives."
Spock frowned.
"Did I? I may have been mistaken."
McCoy gave a hollow, single burst of laughter and said, "Well, at least I lived long enough to hear that. Is there anything we can do?"
"The Enterprise is surely on course for Makus Three by now," Spock said. "I for one do not believe in angels."
"Well, Mr. Spock, so ends your first command."
"Yes. My first command."
A disaster, of course. Spock had never thought he would be any sort of great command officer. He had been perfectly content as first officer. This was proof, perhaps, that he had been correct in that assessment.
Vivian would have made a fine Captain, though, he thought to himself as they neared orbit. Another five years, working her way up through the command structure, she would have had a starship of her own. Her name would have been a boon, but her instincts would have been a greater one.
"Orbit attitude, Mr. Spock," Scott announced. "With our present fuel, that gives us about forty-five minutes."
There was her one great weakness, however, and Spock could see that her hands were shaking wildly as Vivian attempted contact now that they had mostly cleared the interference still clogging the atmosphere.
"Galileo to Enterprise," she said in a clear, calm voice that seemed much like a lie. "Come in, Enterprise. Galileo to Enterprise. Come in, please."
This time it was too soft for anyone else but Spock, sitting beside her with his incredibly sensitive ears. It was no more than a breath, so soft that for a moment he thought he had imagined it, but she breathed out in despair, "Please, I don't want to die."
He watched her, face calm but on the brink of tears, hands trembling so violently, now in her lap again to hide them from others. What was it like to be so afraid, so afraid of dying? Spock was reconciled to the concept, but he realized that this was her greatest fear, dying out in space. And he did not know why. He wanted to know. He wanted to ask her, he realized, but there was no time, no time left for questions. He certainly would not do her the disservice of asking her like this, in front of the others, in their final moments.
Without knowing exactly why he did it, he suddenly turned to his panel and flicked the Fuel Jettison button.
"Mr. Spock!" Scott cried, horrified.
"What happened?" McCoy demanded.
"He jettisoned the fuel and ignited it," Scott said.
"We needed that to maintain orbit," Boma said hoarsely. "Are you out of your mind?"
"Perhaps, Mr. Boma," Spock said softly, unsure of why he had done such a bizarre, illogical thing. He simply knew that he did not regret it.
"How long, Scotty," Vivian asked in a very small voice.
"The orbit'll start decaying as soon as the fuel's exhausted. Say six minutes." Scott frowned as he thought more about the action. "A distress signal? It's like sending up a flare. Mr. Spock, it was a good gamble. Perhaps it was worth it."
Spock disagreed.
"No one out there to see it."
"Orbit decaying, Mr. Spock," Scott said. "Ten seconds to atmosphere."
"It may be the last action you ever take, Mr. Spock," McCoy said, almost happily, "but it was all human."
"Totally illogical," Spock said, still trying to puzzle out why he had done such a thing. "There was no chance."
"That's exactly what I mean."
The instruments began to smoke and crackle, and Vivian hissed, moving away from her panel, toward Spock, hands trembling still.
"Nearly burned me," she said. Spock could see sweat forming on her brow, her loose curl come loose again and sticking slightly to her skin. "It's starting."
Smoke began to fill the shuttlecraft, and as the smoke covered them, as they began to cough and splutter, fairly certain of not being seen – not sure if it mattered when they were all about to die – Spock took her shaking hands in his, feeling them twitch and tremble against his palms, wrapping his fingers tightly around her wrists, hoping to calm her. He had just gotten them still when he felt a transporter beam catch them, taking them from the smoke.
Not a lost cause after all.
/-/
The matter was more or less closed as far as Spock was concerned. The trip to Makus Three had ended. They were on to the next thing. Everyone was in their usual stations, except for Counselor Buckingham, who was aiding Mr. Scott with something over at Engineering. Spock was focusing on adjusting his sensors. The ionic interference had caused some maladjustment.
"Mr. Spock," Kirk said, crossing to the science station with Doctor McCoy.
"Captain," Spock said, continuing his adjustments.
"There's really something I don't understand about all of this," she said, referring of course the Galileo incident. It was a topic she and the Doctor felt necessary to rehash with alarming frequency. "Maybe you can explain it to me. Logically, of course. When you jettisoned the fuel and ignited it, you know there was virtually no chance of it being seen, yet you did it anyhow. That would seem to be an act of desperation."
How long had this been prepared by the pair of them? Spock was ready for this line of questioning, however.
"Quite correct, Captain."
"Now, we all know, and I'm sure the Doctor and Counselor would agree with me, that desperation is a highly emotional state of mind. How does your well-known logic explain that?"
"Quite simply, Captain," Spock said confidently. "I examined the problem from all angles, and it was plainly hopeless. Logic informed me that under the circumstances, the only possible action would have to be one of desperation. Logical decision, logically arrived at."
This was what he told himself, as well, when he started to wonder as he had done frequently since they had been returned to the Enterprise, why he had done such a thing.
"I see," Kirk said slowly. "You mean you reasoned that it was time for an emotional outburst."
Spock glanced across the Bridge to where the Counselor was working, calmly, methodically, without any hint that a matter of hours ago she had been terrified for her life.
"Well, I wouldn't put it in exactly those terms, Captain, but those are essentially the facts."
"You're not going to admit that for the first time in your life, you committed a purely human emotional act?"
Vivian brushed the curl from her face, the curl that had clung to her skin when she began to sweat from the heat of burn-up.
"No, sir."
"Mr. Spock," the Captain said, shaking her head, "you're a stubborn man."
"Yes, sir."
His attention was drawn away from Vivian as he noticed that Scott was watching him from across the Bridge, and the expression was smug, something Spock could only describe as knowing. He quickly turned back to his work, realigning the sensors, and wondering what it was that Scott thought he knew.